


I'd Walk Through Fire For You (Oh Honey)

by sunniskies



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Caretaking, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, Pre-hiatus, Protective Zayn Malik, Schmoop, Sick Harry, Sickfic, Tour Fic, Where We Are Tour
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-12
Updated: 2020-03-12
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:22:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23112394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunniskies/pseuds/sunniskies
Summary: Harry's sick on tour, but it's always Zayn who knows what Harry needs.
Relationships: Zayn Malik/Harry Styles
Comments: 13
Kudos: 162





	I'd Walk Through Fire For You (Oh Honey)

The opening artist is finishing up their last song while the boys hang out backstage in the wings, pumping themselves up for the show. Niall and Louis are cracking jokes and laughing uproariously, Liam’s chugging an energy drink and bouncing on his toes like he’s about to enter a boxing ring, but Zayn’s in the shadows next to Harry, both of them quiet. He slips an arm around Harry’s waist and he comes easily, melting into Zayn’s side. 

Zayn rubs a thumb over Harry’s hip, feeling that familiar bit of baby fat that he never quite lost. “You alright to go on tonight?” he asks, low enough for only Harry to hear. “You don’t sound good, babe.”

Harry had woken up with a terrible cold that morning, rolling out of his bunk on the bus woodenly and coughing pitifully into his morning cup of tea. It wasn’t entirely unexpected, Harry always manages to get sick more often during tours than any of the rest of them, but it still made Zayn’s chest tighten with worry. Even though the tour doctor dosed Harry with his usual array of meds, he still looks and sounds awful. 

Backstage, Harry turns, smiles faintly at him. “I always go on,” he says and leaves it at that.

It makes Zayn almost angry, the firmness of it, the life they live that doesn’t allow for rest or sick days or even just being human, really.

He doesn’t say any of that, though. Instead he just sighs, reaching up to push back one of Harry’s brown curls under his Gucci headscarf. “Okay, H,” he murmurs, squeezing Harry’s side again. 

The screams from the crowd rise an octave - it’s almost their entrance. And because Zayn can’t resist, not when it comes to Harry, he stands on his tip toes and presses a quick kiss to Harry’s cheek. 

Harry dimples at him, tired. But a moment later the mask is on, and he’s ready to be Harry Styles, international pop star. 

****

And Harry Styles he is. He sings, bops around the stage in his flailing yet endearing way, and Zayn does his part too, plays up the mysterious-yet-sexy persona that the fans love. He keeps an eye on Harry though, because he can’t turn off the part of his brain that always needs to look after Harry, to make sure he’s alright. He doesn’t miss the way Harry starts to lag halfway through the show, the coughs he hides in between songs. 

It’s not until the show is over and they’re in the van to their hotel that Harry finally crashes. Zayn’s sitting next to him, and Harry slumps down to let his head fall heavily on Zayn’s shoulder with a sigh. Zayn’s hand instinctively lifts to run through Harry’s sweat-damp hair. 

“Alright, babe?” he murmurs, brushing a hand soothingly across Harry’s forehead. The heat that radiates off Harry’s skin is obviously more than just post-show adrenaline. 

“Tired,” Harry mumbles, eyes closed and not moving an inch. That feels like the understatement of the year, but Zayn just hums in understanding and scoots closer so Harry can rest a little easier. 

By the time they’re at the hotel’s back entrance, Harry is asleep and in full octopus mode. He’s got an arm flung across Zayn’s waist, head still pillowed on his shoulder. He’s drooling a little on Zayn’s shirt, making small snuffling noises through his stuffed up nose.

Louis and Niall grab their stuff and hop out, clearly wanting to get to their rooms. But Liam hangs back, frowning down in concern at Harry. “Can you get him up?” he whispers to Zayn.

“Yeah, I got it,” Zayn assures, and nudges Harry a little, shushing him softly when he makes an upset noise. “We’re here, babe. Let’s get you in bed, yeah?” 

Harry groans heavily and sits up, blinking rapidly. Liam chuckles at his disgruntled face and Zayn bites back a smile too. 

Zayn keeps a protective arm wrapped low on Harry’s waist as they all make their way through the hotel, then up the elevator to their rooms. Everyone’s quiet - they’re all tired. It’s this mid point of tour that always feels the worst, when they’re wrung out from too many shows and there’s no end in sight. It’s clearly Harry who’s worst off though. He leans wearily into Zayn’s touch, pale and looking a bit like he needs to sleep for a century. 

The other boys disappear into their separate rooms but Zayn walks Harry to his, then unlocks the door for him when Harry doesn’t make any effort to. 

Harry hesitates in the door to his room, looking at Zayn with his huge, green eyes. “Stay?” is all he says, voice rough and hoarse, but it’s all it takes. 

“‘Course I will.” Zayn doesn’t even hesitate. He wouldn’t be able to sleep knowing Harry was alone and sick anyway. He guides Harry over to the bed with a hand on his back and makes him sit down, letting the door click softly shut behind them. 

Zayn’s shoulders brush Harry’s as he sits down next to him. He runs his thumb down the side of Harry’s jaw, tips his face toward him so he can get a proper look at him. Harry lets him, quiet, just looks at him with a hint of pleading. He doesn’t have to ask, not any more. Zayn’s been living out of his pocket for far too long to make him ask for the kind of tenderness Zayn knows he needs. 

“Let’s get you clean, yeah?” Zayn murmurs after a moment, and Harry nods. “Stay here.” 

He reluctantly leaves Harry sitting on the bed so that he can head into the ensuite bathroom. The hotel they’re staying at is a nice one, and Zayn’s immediately thankful when he sees the huge tub in the bathroom. Harry’s tired enough that Zayn doesn’t want him standing in the shower for a while, and Harry loves baths anyway. He turns the taps, letting hot steamy water fill the tub. 

It’s something they’ve done before, Zayn bathing Harry. He can’t say exactly when it started, because Harry’s always been so loose and confident about his body, with Zayn especially, that there’s practically nothing they haven’t seen of each other. 

All he knows is that some nights like this, when Harry is quiet and hurting and needy, Zayn will take him into the shower or tub and soap him up, wash his hair. Maybe it’s not a usual thing for mates to do, but it’s also Harry, and Zayn finds the boundaries are often blurred when it comes to him and Harry. 

While the tub fills, he digs around in Harry’s luggage to find the medicines the tour doc gave him that morning. Coming back over to Harry, he presses the back of his hand against his forehead, then cheek. He didn’t need to check, not really, but he confirms that Harry is definitely warmer than he should be. 

“Here babe, take these. You have a fever,” Zayn says softly, then taps two tablets into Harry’s palm. He unscrews the bottle of antibiotics next, hands Harry a tablet, and then also pops out a dose of decongestant as well. 

Harry scrunches his nose up at the assortment of pills. “Do I really need all these?” 

“Yes, you do, you’re sick.” Zayn reaches over for the glass of water on the bedside and watches Harry until he sighs and swallows the pills.

After Harry’s finished the glass of water, Zayn nudges him up with a hand on his back and guides him to the bathroom. He shuts off the tap, and dips a hand into the water to make sure it’s the right temperature. 

“Alright, Styles, strip for me,” Zayn teases, and Harry grins just a little through his tiredness. He starts undoing his ridiculously tight skinny jeans but stumbles, almost falling and Zayn’s at his side in an instant. 

“Woah, easy there babe,” he settles, putting steadying hands on Harry’s hips. “Sit, I’ll help.” 

Harry obediently sits down on the edge of the tub and Zayn crouches down to pull the jeans off Harry’s long legs. He looks up briefly, catching Harry watching him, and he feels a warm tug of arousal flare in his gut. But he ignores it, now’s not the time. Not when Harry’s exhausted and feverish and shivering a little from the cold air in the bathroom. 

He helps Harry get out of the rest of his clothes, then guides Harry into the tub with a firm hand on his elbow. Harry’s not exactly graceful even when he’s feeling well, so Zayn watches carefully that he doesn’t slip. 

Once Harry’s settled in the water, Zayn sits down on the edge of the tub and looks down at him. Harry immediately pouts. “Aren’t you getting in?” 

“Not tonight, H,” Zayn shakes his head fondly, grabs a washcloth and starts soaping it up with one of Harry’s overpriced shower gels. “Just gonna get you clean and in bed, you need sleep.” 

Harry looks put out, and he’s so adorable with his flushed cheeks and pink lips that Zayn can’t resist kissing him softly on the mouth. Harry smiles properly at that, dimples and all, and Zayn grins back. 

“Wash my hair?” Harry asks in his raspy voice. He coughs a little, then looks up at him with those eyes that Zayn’s never been able to resist. “Please?” 

“You already knew I would, babe,” Zayn chastises, but there’s no real heat there. He rolls up the sleeves on his flannel shirt, dips his cupped hands in the water. “Close your eyes,” he warns, then pours the water over Harry’s head when he complies. 

Harry melts into it, groaning happily. Zayn wets his hair with a few more handfuls of water, then starts scrubbing in his shampoo. The bathroom fills with the citrusy vanilla scent that will always mean _Harry_ to Zayn. 

Zayn knows Harry could spend hours like this, lingering in the bath until the water’s long gone cold. But he also can’t ignore the tired slump of Harry’s shoulders and the heat radiating off him, so he makes quick work of washing and conditioning Harry’s hair. He soaps him up gently and washes him too, watching the water make rivulets down Harry’s tattooed skin. 

By the time Harry’s clean he’s sleepy and pliant, and lets Zayn help him out of the tub and dry him off with a fluffy hotel towel. Zayn ties it around his waist for him, then rubs Harry’s hair with another towel. 

“Can I trust you to get yourself dressed and in bed?” Zayn quirks an eyebrow. Harry nods but just stands in the bathroom looking lost until Zayn pushes him gently toward the bed, chuckling.

Usually Zayn enjoys a long hot shower after a show, but tonight he wants nothing more for both of them to get to bed. He showers quickly, dries off and slings a towel around his waist. 

When he comes out of the bathroom, it’s to Harry curled up under the fluffy white duvet on his side, watching him with half-lidded eyes. His hair is sticking up at odd angles and he looks much, much younger like this, with all the fame and glamor stripped away. Zayn comes over, smoothes out a few unruly curls. “How’re you feeling?” he asks. 

Harry merely lifts a shoulder from underneath the duvet, makes an uncertain noise. “Not great,” he croaks, sounding thoroughly miserable.

Zayn frowns, pulls the blanket higher over Harry’s shoulder. “You need to sleep.” 

“Need you,” Harry mumbles. And sure, it’s Harry being Harry and Zayn knows he’ll be fine, but it still makes his heart ache. 

He presses a kiss to Harry’s hair, then quickly slips on a pair of pyjama pants. Flicking off the lights, he slides into bed next to Harry, who immediately snuggles up to him, silently asking to be spooned. Zayn smiles to himself and slings an arm around Harry, pulling their bodies flush together. Harry’s still overwarm and with the duvet Zayn knows they’ll both probably wake up sweaty in the morning, but he holds Harry tight anyway. 

As Harry’s breathing begins to slow and even out, Zayn relaxes and buries his nose in the back of Harry’s neck. The worry and tension of the day finally start to seep from his bones, and he’s suddenly exhausted. 

Even in the midst of the craziness of their lives, he always finds peace right here. 

**Author's Note:**

> Probably not the best time to be posting sickfic, but let's pretend this is an alternate universe.
> 
> Say hi on tumblr: @undersunniskies


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